rage
by UnwieldyInk
Summary: "I'm sorry, Thalia," Apollo had said, staring at the ground. "I did everything I could." "Everything you could?" Thalia had replied, still unable to believe what she had just heard. "You're a god! If anyone could have stopped this, it would have been you!" It's post-TBM angst time lads. Poor Thalia's not having a great time. Rated K for heavy subjects. Major TBM spoilers!


Thalia propped her feet up on the bathroom wall, watching how her no-longer-quite-so-grimy skin contrasted against the white tile. It was strange, looking at her own body. She hadn't quite felt real since Apollo told her about… him.

_I'm sorry, Thalia,_ he had said, staring at the ground. _I did everything I could._

_Everything you could?_ Thalia had replied, still unable to believe what she had just heard. _You're a god! If anyone could have stopped this, it would have been you!_

Thalia squeezed her eyes shut, ignoring their sting. A lump pressed against her throat again, and she sank down in the tub, blowing air out of her nose to make bubbles appear. Opening her eyes again to look at her knees poking out of the water, scarred and scabbed but still there, Thalia choked down a sob. She turned her head, submerging her face in the water and holding it there. Jason's face suddenly flashed in front of her, even though her eyes were closed, and Thalia fought to keep her lips closed as a scream of frustration almost burst out of her. the shock she had felt earlier that day had long since faded, and now all that was left in her was anger. Anger at Apollo, for not saving her baby brother. Anger at Jason, for leaving all his friends in splinters. But most of all, anger at herself. She'd never even been able to see her brother when they weren't in the middle of a war. She hadn't gotten the chance to tease him about his dorky glasses, or stay up until three in the morning and watch him laugh so hard he couldn't sit up, or even tell him how much she missed him. She'd gotten her brother back, the thing she'd wanted most for more than a decade, and she didn't even use it. And now he was gone again.

How stupid she'd been, to let him slip through her fingers again. Somehow, a memory she should've been too young to remember surfaced in Thalia's brain- a hot midday sun, a swaddled up Jason pushed into her arms, her mother's face filling up her sight, telling Thalia: "Take care of him."

She'd left Jason with their mother one day, came back and he was gone. Now Thalia had left him again, let him go try to save the world, and she hadn't been there when he needed her to protect him. He had laid on the ground, dead or dying, while Thalia was thousands of miles away, laughing with her hunters or delighting in the thrill of a hunt, not even aware of what was happening. She had failed him in every way imaginable. And now her baby brother was dead, and _oh gods, had Thalia ever even told him that she loved him?_

Thalia's face broke the surface of the water, her lungs screaming, and now she couldn't stop the tears from spilling out of her. Gasping for air and sobbing and shouting all at once, Thalia buried her face in her hands, feeling the wrinkles on her fingers press into her face.

Jason's fingers were folded neatly over his chest. The scabs on his knees would never heal up. His lungs didn't burn like Thalia's, didn't scream, didn't breathe, didn't do anything at all. She ran through his body in her head, imagining the pale, stiff corpse stuffed in a box that used to be her little brother. She knew it wouldn't do anything except make her feel worse, but once she started, she couldn't stop. When Thalia got to that little scar on his lip, her breath caught in her throat. He had been so tiny when he got that, so tiny and cute and stupid. _He still is,_ Thalia thought fondly. _Was._

_He still was._

He was still dorky, and cute, and thrilled to be alive. He still grinned at puppies, and left his hair in bedhead disarray, and hadn't quite learned not to use too much deodorant. And Apollo let him die.

And the gods let him die.

And Thalia let him die.

The shrill ring of her phone balanced on the edge of the sink snapped Thalia out of her thoughts. She rose from the water and stumbled out of the tub, not bothering to wrap a towel around herself. Her body wasn't real, anyways.

It was Annabeth who was calling her. Thalia let out a breath, swiping to pick up the call and holding the phone up to her ear. Annabeth's voice sounded tinny and fuzzy through the receiver, but it was a relief to hear from her all the same.

"Hello?" Annabeth said. "Thalia?"

"Hey," Thalia croaked back.

"Thalia, gods. You have no idea how good it feels to hear your voice again, even if- uh… Well, I called because I heard about…" Annabeth's voice faded for a minute, probably trying to keep Thalia from hearing her cry. Thalia almost smiled despite herself. Good kid.

"How- How're you holding up?" Annabeth tried again. Thalia let a long breath out through her nose.

"About how you'd expect."

Annabeth audibly swallowed. "Right." A silence filled the space between them, all eight hundred miles.

They could've had this conversation about someone else. They _should've _had this same conversation a year or two ago, about someone else, another blond haired, scarred boy they both had a special place in their hearts for. Thalia could feel Annabeth's feelings about Luke behind her words just as much as those about Jason.

Two boys they both cared about. Two deaths they were both at fault for. Annabeth had never admitted that she felt guilty for Luke's fate, but Thalia could spot it in her instantly, because she'd felt the same thing.

And that was more than a year ago, now. They really never did learn from their mistakes, did they?

Thalia stayed on the phone with Annabeth for a few more minutes, trading words and failed attempts at coherent sentences, but Annabeth eventually ended the call with a promise that they'd see each other soon. Thalia had no idea how true that would turn out to be, nor did she particularly care, for the first time in a while. So she put her phone back on the sink and laid down on the bath mat, staring up at the ceiling. She didn't know why. It just felt right.

Thalia told herself that she'd get up in a minute. But for now, she was going to lay here, and think things over, and let her anger course through her.


End file.
